A Perfect Mistake
by TheWitchNextDoor
Summary: She hated him for doing this to her. She hated her for looking like him. Most of all, she hated them for making her love them. Arcee struggles to survive bringing her dead lover's emberling into the world. [Arcee/Cliffjumper, Shattered Glass version of A Perfect Mix, basically.]


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Transformers at all.

 **Warning:** Sparkling emergence is a bit gorey and Arcee is twisted.

* * *

Autobots, as a rule, did not bond. There were exceptions, of course, as a defining characteristic of Autobots is a disregard for law and a lack of concern for how their actions affected anyone but themselves. Optimus Prime himself had an embermate back on Cybertron, somewhere. (Though she knew from personal experience he wasn't the most faithful of mates.) Arcee had never intended to be an exception. There were a thousand reasons not to be.

To emberbond with someone was to entrust them with the very core of your being. Arcee did not trust, because she was not a fool. At the end of the day, there was no honor amongst Autobots. To emberbond during a war was foolish in itself. One embermate rarely survived the death of another; the bond would yank a living ember right into the pit with it's partner if it wasn't anchored to the living world by another bond. Arcee didn't want to die because she put her trust in some moron who couldn't stay online.

Then there were the consequences of ember merging, which had to occur during the process of completing an emberbond. Arcee had never liked the idea of ember merging, of baring herself completely to another person, and she'd never really wanted to know anyone else that well either. Some secrets were meant to stay buried; some scars were never meant to be shared. Some people were never meant to be creators. And of all the reasons there were not to emberbond, procreation was number one. No matter how cautious you were, there was always the chance an ember merge would leave a partner carrying.

There was no place for emberlings in a war. They were small, weak, distracting. Optimus Prime would not allow for anything to be more important than a mission, for the creation of something that may be loved more than he was feared. Arcee had been fine with that, too. She'd never wanted to be a creator; she found emberlings insufferable little creatures, and carrying cycles were difficult and often dangerous.

Autobots, as a rule, did not bond. And Arcee had no intention of being an exception . . . until Cliffjumper sauntered into her life. He was arrogance personified, with that cocky walk and that smug grin. She should have tossed the slagger into the smelting pool he loved so much. Instead she found herself drawn to the way his hips swayed, admiring the deadly gleam in his eye, adoring that malicious joy he expressed whenever he was allowed to execute prisoners. Cliffjumper had taken notice of her, too, and it wasn't long before she'd allowed the mech to sweep her off her feet. Arcee didn't believe in love, but she imagined this was as close to that as you could get.

They became lovers, and late at night when they were tangled up in their berth, he would whisper impossible things. When they war was over, they would bond. They would have a grand celebration; Cliffjumper was a member of Optimus Prime's innermost circle, his wealth and status would be immense. They would become embermates, they would enjoy the spoils of victory. He'd even hinted at a family, of all things. It reminded her of the bright eyed femmeling that she'd been so long ago. It was all empty words, she knew that, and some part of her had still fallen for it anyway. She had given herself to him, body and ember, in every way; and in the end, he was just another moron who couldn't stay online, and left her to deal with the consequences.

She hadn't noticed the changes, at first. So she was a little hungrier than usual; she was a busy person and she burned a lot of fuel. So she was recharging more; she didn't have Cliff around to keep her up at night. So she was moody; well, that was barely a change. Then came the cravings, the purging, the pain in her chest plates. Arcee was finally forced out of her denial. She was carrying, and she had no idea what to do about it. She didn't want it, but she didn't want to go to Ratchet about it either. He was likely to turn her into some sort of experiment, or just snuff out her ember along with the emberling. So she hid it, hoping she'd know what to do about it before she went into emergence. She'd thought she'd been doing a fine job of it, too, until Chromia had cornered her in a dark corridor and confronted her about it.

Then the femme had done something that shocked Arcee to her very core; she offered her help. The pair and never really gotten along. Chromia was a battle hungry, unstable femme who had always made it clear her loyalty lay with Elita-One. Arcee had avoided her because she never wanted her own loyalty to be questioned, and because she wasn't all that fond of Ironhide either. Chromia had never struck her as the kind of bot to do favors for anyone, so Arcee had pressed for an explanation. She would never forget the haunted look in the other femme's optics as she gave her answer, or the sudden realization that Chromia hadn't always been so twisted.

 _"I was a carrier once myself, you know."_

Arcee hadn't known. She didn't think it was a story she wanted to hear. So she didn't ask, and she accepted the help. She didn't want to admit it, but she probably would have been lost without it. It had been Chromia's idea to drive out into the desert and deliver the emberling there, on the edge of Decepticon territory. Prime would never find it, and she wouldn't be punished for it's existence. That had been the plan, and it had seemed like such a good one at the time. The reality of it was much harsher.

* * *

Arcee screamed as the spasm hit, her back arching involuntarily as everything inside her squeezed painfully. Her servos dug into the sand and rock breath her. Arcee had been in pain before. She'd been broken, beaten, tortured, even. Nothing compared to this. She could feel it, crawling up her emergence tube with little infantile claws, desperate for freedom. The spasm passed; she lifted her head and scowled at her chest plates, grabbed at them despite the pain.

Claws dug into metal, gouging deep marks into her pink chassis. Her chest plates weren't separating properly. The emberling was going to crawl right into her ember and kill them both. She felt bitterness and hatred welling up inside her. She hated Cliffjumper for doing this to her; she hated him for offlining. She hated herself for falling for his charms, and she hated this thing for - _for -_ a new sensation suddenly seized her ember. Warmth and innocence and fear and childlike adoration all washed over the bond she'd been denying. Arcee screamed as another emergence spasm wracked her slight frame. No, _no_! She didn't want this, she didn't want a bond with this creature. It was killing her! It was . . . it was so weak . . . it was dying. Fear clutched her ember, cold and unwelcome and undeniable. Arcee didn't want to die. She didn't want them to die. Coolant leaked from her optics.

Chromia couldn't help her. She was busy enough keeping suspicion off of Arcee's disappearance, and she didn't much trust the femme to perform any sort of medical activity on her anyways. Arcee offlined her optics and dug deep into her memories files, bringing forth a commlink she hadn't used in almost longer than she could remember. She probably wouldn't get an answer. She tried anyway.

 _:: Vae. Help me. Help us. ::_

Arcee hated that her desperation reflected in her voice. For a moment there was silence, and she nearly despaired. Then there was a crackle of static, and a soft, hesitant voice.

 _:: Ar . . . Arcee? Why are you-? ::_

Another spasm came, stronger this time, and Arcee screamed. It must have carried over the commlink because the voice on the other end gave a sharp cry of alarm. Arcee struggled through the pain to send her coordinates and beg for help.

 _:: Please! Dying . . . crawling into ember . . . killing us both. ::_

There was only static in response. She was on her own. Arcee tried again save herself. She forced her claws into the tiny gap in her chest plates, struggled to tear them apart. Energon welled up, dripping down her chassis and making her fingers slip clumsily. A final spasm hit her, and she tried to channel the pain into strength. Her chest cracked, but it wasn't enough. Fear and confusion washed over the fragile new bond. Something knocked into her ember casing, hard. Arcee screamed as her life violently flickered in and out. She screamed so loud she didn't hear the jet roaring over head, the thud of landfall, or the frightened voice shouting her name.

 _:: Arcee! ::_

The shout through the commlink pulled her back to reality. Arcee's helm lolled to the side, and she felt a rush of relief at the sight of the Seeker, hardly taller than Arcee and shimmering blue in the moonlight. She didn't think she'd ever been so happy to see a Decepticon in her life.

"You came." She meant for it to come out in a tone somewhere between mocking and questioning, but all she seemed able to express at the moment was pain.

The Seeker didn't respond immediately. Instead she knelt down and pressed something to her neck. Arcee barely registered the sting of something piercing an exposed tube; it was nothing compared to the agony in her chassis. A cool sensation swept through her system, and she realized she'd just been given a pain killer. Arcee lifted her helm and the world swam so heavily she had to lower it again. She'd just been given one hell of a pain killer. She heard the buzz of a saw and hissed, realizing what the Seeker intended to do with it.

"No ones called me Vae in vorns."

She had probably responded to distract her. Arcee appreciated that, but she still sneered at her. "Oh, that's right. Supernovae's got a Decepticon designation now, doesn't she?"

The Seeker looked at her for a moment, a profound sadness in those disgustingly blue optics. Then she lowered her gaze and lifted her saw. "I suggest you look away now."

Arcee didn't exactly take orders well, but the idea of watching herself be dissected made even her squeamish, so she offlined her optics. The saw pressed to her chest plates, sliced into the tender metal. It took all of her self control not to lash out in self defense. The pain killer worked wonders, but she was still awake and it still hurt. She supposed she could at least be grateful she wasn't screaming, and Supernovae was a trained medic. The Seeker knew exactly what she was doing, and she moved with precision and speed. Arcee wasn't sure if it took breems or a joor, but the noise stopped and she onlined her optics to see her chest plates sliding open.

The Seeker reached into the pink bot's chassis, experienced servos avoiding damage as she scooped up the tiny thing and pulled it out to examine it. Arcee let herself relax and kicked her cooling systems up, knowing she was now out of immediate danger, and she probably wouldn't bleed to death with the flyer here. After a few breems she lifted her helm, and her ember hitched painfully as she laid optics on her sparkling for the first time.

She looked so much like Cliff it hurt. The angle of her face plates, the shape of her armor, the silver of her paint. _Cloudjumper_. The name came out of nowhere. She hadn't even realized she'd said it out loud until the Seeker spoke.

"A lovely name."

Arcee stared for a moment, took in the way the Seeker cradled the sparkling like she might break, the warmth in her optics even as the femmeling began to wail. Arcee turned her head away and spoke bitterly. "Take her away."

The Seeker hesitated, then reached out with one servo towards the bot she'd once thought of as family. "You could come too. You could raise her-"

"I don't want her." To prove her point, Arcee snapped the carrier bond closed, refusing to turn her head even as the sparkling wailed louder, "Take her and leave. Before they come. Go!"

The Seeker took one last hesitant look at Arcee and then turned her back on her. She transformed carefully around her precious cargo and disappeared into the sky. Arcee would never see the face of her mistake again, which was what she had wanted. It was easy to pretend she didn't feel hollow inside; she had been doing it for vorns. She let her helm fall back and opened up another commline.

 _:: Chromia, it's done. Take me home. ::_

* * *

This was supposed to be the same length as _A Perfect Mix_ but I'm on a serious Shattered Glass kick right now so I ended up writing say too much.

And to my _Twists & Turns_ readers, yes, that is Nova, and yes Supernovae is her full name in both verse


End file.
